


The Angel to your demon

by millions_harmony



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Angel/Demon Relationship, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Demon Dean Winchester, Enemies to Lovers, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, M/M, POV Alternating, Possessive Castiel (Supernatural), Sharing of Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Winged Dean Winchester, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26612377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millions_harmony/pseuds/millions_harmony
Summary: After being outcasted from hell, Dean was ordered to live on earth as the punishment for deceiving Lucifer's orders. Then, one thing leads to another and he met an angel, Castiel. They started as enemies and never did he knew he'd learn to love the angel when Castiel had saved him from death itself.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 76





	The Angel to your demon

**Author's Note:**

> This had been sitting in my phone for months until i found it and decided to finish it. This is not a slowburn because i'm lazy af to write more plot, but i hope you guys will enjoy this more or less. 
> 
> p/s; english is my second language and this story is not beta'd so i'm sorry for any mistakes or typos.
> 
> please, enjoy!

The lingering thoughts of liking the smell of fresh after-rain that burns on the black tar of the road never did cross his mind.

At first he thought it was just some random scent that kind of just sticks into the nostrils, like the fresh smell of cut grass in the afternoon or the smell of gasoline at the gas station.

But when the smell of after-rain swifted under his nose when he walked down the hill of the cemetery, he couldn't help himself but turning his head towards the source of the weirdly addicting smell.

A guy, tall—probably as tall as him with broad shoulders and cladded with a full set of three piece black suit was walking up the hill seemingly to head towards the gathering people around a freshly cremated tomb. 

A sudden sense of curiousity burned at the back of his head as he watched the retreating figure of the man. He didn't know why, but something told him he needed to know this man. 

After giving a last gaze towards the disappearing man in between the crowd, Castiel turned back towards the road, not realizing a stray of black silk feather that landed on his shoulder.

* * *

Hands in pockets, Dean stood on the rooftop of some abandoned tall building—black eyes were focused down the city landscape, the place he'd been calling as home for almost a year. Why, you asked? Well, after deceiving Hell he's apparently been casted out from the pit and unto the earth. 

He was the Knight of Hell but nah, he couldn't care less to be honest, he's just glad that he got to keep his wings though; large and unscathed shiny black feathers.

Humans couldn't see them of course, such poor limited eyesight for poor and hideous creatures.

He's hungry, sharp canine teeth grew out as well as his dark horns; two dark brown pointed bumps protruded on top of his head. His horns were rarely shown, only when he's starving and when he's horny.

In this case, it's the former.

Demons fed on humans' fear and greed, but the most satisfying ones were the joy and pure happiness that surely could make one's belly full and deep satiated. _For weeks._

See, thing is, demons shouldn't walk on earth; because apparently being away from the deep pit of hell for a long amount of time could kill them slowly and torturously. So, that's why the biggest punishment for demons whom deceived hell and its king, _Lucifer,_ will be casted unto earth.

It's been _months_ but Dean's still very much alive and were having the time of his life so far. He had already fed on some suicidal guy's joy just two days ago but it wasn't enough, he was starving again—his nose eagerly sniffing the air for new meals.

 _Then—_ his nose caught an immensely different scent from what he'd used to, somehow it was soothing but at the same time so deliciously appetizing and not like how humans' scents were. And it's calling out to him. 

He heightened up his senses, searching for the source of the delicious scent that still lingered strongly in the air. His eyes went rigid black, horns protruding even prominent now and his huge wings spreaded in the empty space behind him.

His eyes zeroed on a hospital building few blocks away.

 _"Found ya."_

* * *

The sickening smell of antiseptic that surrounded the whole entire floor made Dean wanted to puke. Seriously, what's up with these white cladded coat people walking around without gagging at the smell? Ew.

Dean sauntered on the clean white linoleum floor, dress shoes clacking as he took another whiff of the scent he's been searching; now it was so intense it actually made him a bit dizzy, but in a good way dizzy.

Some staffs were raising their heads, curious eyes landed on him as he walked past the registration counter of this floor. A young woman in a blue nurse outfit was unbashfully raking her eyes down Dean's finely cladded body and just because he could, he winked and smirked when their eyes met.

Dean could smell her instant arousal and almost gagged at how bitter it was. He ignored it, nose once again hungrily inhaling the sweet peach scent as he came nearer to the end of the hallway. 

He stopped in front of a room numbered '208', the scent was even stronger—his horns and fangs were almost came out in instant. He held back a bit, using all of his willpower left and reached out to push down the metal knob, the door opened smoothly without a sound.

He didn't risk to take another whiff of the scent when he was met with a man; a set of light brown trench coat fits perfectly on his body, accompanied with a dark set of suit, and of course, a pair of black dress shoes. The man's back was facing him, but Dean's eyes landed on the patient in the room. A man wearing a hospital robes, sitting on a wheelchair next to the trench coat guy; both of them facing the window.

"Don't just stand there, _demon._ Leave and close the door if you had no other business here." 

The trench coat man said, a protective hand rested around the patient's shoulder.

"I'm here for my meal." Dean replied, as he walked in.

"I said close the door." the man spoke again, this time with a stern voice. 

Dean smirked, ignoring the order because he'll never obey to _anyone_ not even Lucifer himself. His human eyes went back to rigid black—no whites left as he let his horns and fangs grew.

"I don't fucking care, I just wanna eat." 

Suddenly the door was shut by itself, followed by sound of lock went to its place. Seems like this trench coat guy wasn't human at all then. Interesting.

Dean smirked again with two pointed fangs showed between his lips. His eyes were zeroed on the patient, as he licked his lips, imagining the taste of his new founded meal. 

"What are you doing here?" 

Dean clicked his tongue at the question. 

"Didn't I tell you? I'm here for _t_ _hat."_

“I mean, what are _you_ doing here, on earth wandering around?”

This time the trench coat man turned to face him. For a moment Dean was ashamed of himself for admitting that this guy is really _fucking hot._ Ethereal blue eyes staring intensely at him at first before they squinted as if in confusion when their eyes met. Dean didn't care to show him his human's eyes as he stared back, licking his fang—tongue flicking at the pointed tip. He smirked when those blue eyes trailed not so subtly down on his lips.

 _"You."_ The guy stated slowly, eyebrows furrowed when he snapped back to Dean's eyes.

Dean frowned. What?

"I know you." The guy continued, and for a second Dean swore he could see faint red dusted on the guy's cheeks.

"Come again?" This time Dean let his human's eyes shown, black shifted into a pair of green irises as he stared into the depth of those ocean storm blues.

_Beautiful._

Does it weird to say that he's been feeling this weird magnetic attraction for this no name guy? Dean tried a sniff of the air and his black eyes were back when he finally sensed that the addictive sweet peach scent was....fading. 

Irritated, Dean let his huge pair of wings furled out from its hiding spot into the very existence of the space in the white–walled room. The trench coat guy's eyes never waver, even when he saw the wings fluttered in annoyance. For some reason Dean felt his hunger was no more.

"I should eat you instead." Dean said between gritted teeth, as he began to stalk forward.

A sudden sounds of another set of wings fluttered loud in the room beside his. Dean abruptly stopped on his track, eyes fell on the equally large— if possible, _even larger_ pair of white prismatic wings unfurled behind the guy's back. The feathers were shining in the gleam of the afternoon light, a stark contrast from the guy's dark suit and all.

It's like facing an _angel._

Wait.

"Fuck.” Demon chuckled darkly. “I never thought I'd meet one of you dicks." His smirk was back again, wings spreaded in a sudden dominating stance.

Like hell he'll lose against some angel asshole. Always hated their kinds. God's greatest warrior, Heaven's most proud _tools,_ bla bla bla, yada yada.

Their gazes never left each other and Dean tried not to be distracted by the furled and unfurled of the angel's wings. 

"That makes two of us." The angel smirked whilst he stepped forward to erase the gap between them both. His wings furled into a natural stance. Not dominating nor submissive.

Dean tried not to let himself been swept away with such beauty as the angel finally stood in front of him, their distance were just a step away. For some reason, the angel was just watching him; eyes never blink as if he could stared into his mind—and read all these _disturbing_ thoughts he had for the angel. He also hated how his wings _almost_ dropped into a submissive position.

The more they stared at each other, the closer the invisible pull Dean felt towards the angel. He didn't realize that he was taking the one step forward, now both their breaths mingled; noses almost touching and lips were just mere inches away.

"Castiel." The angel whispered, as he leaned in closer. 

"Call me Castiel." 

And they kissed.

* * *

"Fuck, _Cas—"_

Dean groaned against the man's ear, their naked bodies were glistening with sweats as they rocked against one another. The man beneath him moaned as he hit that sweet spot over and over in each of his brutal thrusts.

His orgasm was building steadily fast, muscles contracting as he gripped the man's hips tight, bruising the smooth skin; making sure he'll leave his marks there. His thrusts were erratic, the bed was creaking under their weight, not caring it would be heard over the thin walls of this cheap motel room. 

As if he'd care.

"Ah fuck—I'm fucking close," The man grunted, his deep voice moaning sounded so beautiful in Dean's ears as he rocked into that tight hole again, hitting that one spot inside before he came with a hard last thrust; filling the man's wet channel with his thick release.

The man came too, spurts of cum landed on the sheet below him and Dean landed heavily against the man's back, his dick still buried inside.

 _"Fuck yeah."_ The man groaned, shifting his body slightly, and Dean pulled out before he rolled over to the side of the bed.

He's been having regular sex since the incident with Cas two weeks ago, and after that _kiss,_ Dean's libido had been getting crazy wired lately. They never met again after that day but those prismatic white wings and blue eyes were taunting him every single seconds of the day.

It's exhausting and suffocating.

Turning his head towards the man next to him, he was met with a pair of hooded hazel eyes and messy dark brown hair. The smell of sex was potent in the room and now his lust was somehow sated, he's hungry for a meal.

Smirking, he scooted closer and soon their lips met in a hungry lewd kiss. Dean moaned at the delicious scent of joy, lust and satisfaction lingered in the air as he sucked all those from the man beneath him. Soon after, the hazel eyes went dimmed, as they stared into the nothingness. Naked body went limp and only the constant rising of his chest indicted that the man was still alive albeit seemingly lifeless.

Dean licked his lips, went out of the bed, and have a nice long shower before he dressed up in his fancy black three–piece suit. Without even wasting a glance, he left the motionless body laid on the bed.

Wings unfurled proudly, and soon he was gone.

* * *

The sun was setting down in the horizon, blue of the sky gradually covered in orange and pink hues as the sun went down. Castiel sighed, hands in his trench coat pockets as he stared at the beauty of the nature through the opened window of the hospital room. 

Today marked the second week since the first day he'd visited Adrian; the deaf and disabled man, caused by a gruesome accident that leads to hearing loss and disability. Castiel had met him on a faithful day during one of his regular visits at the hospital. 

At first, he thought it was just a more of empathy than curiosity he had for the man but—there's something about this man's soul that's been calling out to him whenever he came by. 

Thus, a day turned to two, then turned to weeks. 

Whenever Castiel came by and fed Adrian, the assigned nurse was always smiling kindly at him, saying that it's been _years_ since anybody visited the poor man and Castiel's heart seized painfully inside his chest. 

“He's a good man. Young with bright future ahead for him,” the nurse one day said, voice interlaced with such pity as she stared at the both of them. “But I guess, everything that happened must had its reasons, right? It's all God's plan.” 

Adrian stared longingly into Castiel's eyes as he held the man's hand into his. 

“It's true,” Castiel said towards the nurse. “God does work in mysterious ways. Humans only need to have faith and always prayed to Him.”

The nurse smiled genuinely in response, before went back to her job.

Father once taught them how to defend and became one of the greatest warriors of Heaven, always put their missions first on top of everything else. Castiel had killed, smite, and led armies as they fought in the War of Heaven along with the other angels in his garrison.

He was sent down to earth on a mission to kill a nephilim; an abomination, so dangerous it could bring wars on heaven and earth, so, being the faithful warrior himself, Castiel killed the baby without batting an eye. His mission was fulfilled, but he wanted to stay. So he stays.

He wanted to learn more about these humans—his Father's most valuable creations, and find out what makes them so special.

Then—that demon came.

Another abomination, devious creatures raised and trained in Hell; Lucifer's dutiful followers.

But somehow Castiel could feel it in his gut that the demon wasn't the same as the rest. It has been weeks since _that day_ Castiel had kissed him but it didn't feel like it was _wrong._ Not at all.

Rather than that, Castiel felt…addicted. Like he wanted more than just a simple kiss on the lips. He yearned for something strong, something that could tie the demon with him and never let go. Without him realizing, his wings furled out from its hidden space; white feathers fluttered in despair. 

Castiel wanted to meet him. 

* * *

Castiel arrived in a cheap motel room somewhere in the middle of the northway out the country, his wings fluttered in the dim light of the room that strongly reeked of…semen and lust.

His eyes immediately landed on the tangled bodies on the bed, two guys were kissing lewdly, tongues wet and licking into each other's mouth and Castiel wanted to gag at the filthy sounds. 

What's more, Castiel knew why he's here. 

_“Cas,_ you came.”

The demon's voice was silky rich deep with sated lust as he rolled over from the motionless body. Castiel gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the sudden burning feeling inside his chest seeing the demon had laid with some random human.

“Did you feed on him?” He asked instead.

“I've prayed to you before, but now you just decided to show up?” He huffed. “I thought you'd never answer _my_ prayer.” 

“I asked you a question.” Castiel growled.

The demon went out the bed with a sigh. “Way to ruin the mood, Cas. Of course I fed on him, man's gotta eat.”

Castiel sighed, ignoring the gloriously naked demon as he walked towards the bed towards the human. The man was still alive, albeit his eyes were staring up lifelessly at the ceiling and never blinks. Castiel came near him, holding out two fingers towards the man's forehead before he let his grace flowed into the man's soul; mending the broken parts. 

When the man's soul was at least healed; hollow broken patches were mended albeit not perfectly as before—Castiel wiped his memories regarding the demon before he teleported the man to his apartment after making sure he was already fully clothed, all with the help of Castiel's grace. 

When the man was gone, Castiel turned to face the demon.

“You overfed on him. You consumed some of his soul.”

The demon chuckled at the statement. “So? It's not like I cared anyway. Humans are abominations, they shouldn't live freely on earth.”

His eyes were rigid black as they stared intensely towards Castiel; pointed canines and horns were still prominently displayed even after his last meal.

“Here I thought you're different than others.” Castiel sighed deeply, shaking his head with a weak laugh. “I should've known.”

Hearing that, the demon frowned upon the angel. His eyes went back to his normal mesmerizing green irises before he stood up from the bed. “What's that suppose to mean?”

He now stood chest to chest with Castiel, his bare skin brushes ever so slightly against the fabric of Castiel's trench coat. The demon fought the shudder that ripples down his skin.

“What exactly did you mean about _me_ being different than the others?” 

Being so damn close to the demon, Castiel fought the temptation to feel those lips again. To kiss the man breathless until he falls down into the pit of Castiel's mercy. He gulped, shoving those forbidden thoughts away into the back of his mind.

“It's your scent.” His voice sounded foreign in his own ears.

The demon blinks, both his horns and fangs were slowly gone. “What do you mean?”

Castiel just stared, but remain silent.

“Are you allergic to straight answers you son of a bitch?!” The demon exclaimed loudly; his scent turned sour around them.

Castiel abruptly grabbed the demon's hips in a tight grip, reeling him in; earning a sharp gasp from the demon.

“You should show me some respect.” Castiel lowered his voice, “I'm an angel, I could kill you anytime I want.”

The demon hissed on his face, “I don't give a single shit, and you didn't answer my question.”

Castiel tightened his grip, leaving bruises on the unblemished skin as he dragged the demon's body even closer to his; both their fronts slotted together. He smirked when he could feel the spike of the demon's arousal against the front of his slacks.

“I scented you and you took my interest because you're different than the other filthy demons.” Castiel whispered against the demon's lips. “At least that's what I thought.” He pried open the seam of Demon's lips with his thumb, liking the way the demon subconsciously became pliant, lush lips parted, pupils dilated but then Castiel pulled back when he felt the demon was slowly surrendering to him.

 _“But I_ _thought wrong.”_

With that last spoken, Castiel was gone with a loud flutter of his wings—leaving the demon grasping at the thin air in the quiet room. 

* * *

Days went by, and so Dean still fed on _humans—overfed_ mostly, just because he wanted to piss off some stupid fucking arrogant angel that seemed to never leave his mind ever since _day one._ Hell, that angel didn't even know his name.

“Fuck!” Dean cursed loud under his breath—as he stepped his foot down on his victim's head harshly, the limp corpse stayed unmoving beneath him.

This was his third meal for the day, when he one day suddenly _out of curiosity_ had found out that eating human's heart was actually pretty satisfying _—well, minus the blood mess—_ and he'd been feeding on it for two days in a row. 

He would purposely fed in any open area; sometimes it was at a field, under the highway bridge or motel rooms whenever he felt like doing it. Dean always waited at his feeding place a tad bit longer than he usually was—black eyes always roamed searching for any signs of the angel to come by. 

When there was not even a single silhouette, or flutter of wings, Dean would leave the scene and teleported himself towards the top of the tall abandoned building and stared down the city line. He didn't even bother to clean up his messes as he left those dead corpses to rot. 

Today was no exception either. Dean took a last look around the wheat field, before flying off with an annoyed gruff—disappearing in a loud whiff of air. 

Little did he knew, Castiel stood by the Oak tree not far from the corpse; fully invisible before the angel unveiled himself. With his prismatic white wings tucked behind him, he went to clean up as he usually did, disposing the rotten corpse by soaring it in fire just in seconds before the body turned to ashes.

An unfamiliar flutter of wings caught his attention. He disposed the dark ashes into thin air, leaving the grass looked untouched as if it wasn't even stained in dried crimson blood before. 

Castiel drew out his angel blade on instinct, but then the scent of red roses mixed with lilacs caught his nostrils, making him stop dead for a second.

“No need to fight, brother. I come in peace.” The unmistakably very familiar woman's voice went into his ears.

He turned and faked a smile, _"_ _Cupid,_ fancy meeting you here.” 

“I've been watching you,” She said, adjusting her blood–red suit, before dusting her equally red dress pants which matched the red of her lips and the rest of her attire down to her red laced shiny dress shoes, leaving her long black hair fashioned in a high ponytail as a stark contrast. She slipped her hands into her pants' pockets; looking as sharp but at the same time casual as ever. “And I've been watching that demon _lover_ of yours too.” She continued.

Castiel held his breath. This couldn't be good.

“Was it you?” he asked.

“Does it make you feel better if I said it was?”

Castiel gripped his angel blade so tight around his fingers, knuckles turned white. “So it really was you then?”

“Don't wanna ruin the surprise but since you asked so nicely, then the answer is _yes."_

“Why me?” 

At that question, the cupid tilted her head slightly as if she's really thinking over to answer the simple question.

“It was an order. So I obeyed.” She said without blinking.

“Then why paired me with _him?_ An abomination out of all creations.” He sneered, “You know you can do better than that.”

“Because Heaven told me so, Castiel. It was written down in your destiny. To be a fallen angel and fell in love with a outcasted demon.” She smiled as she continued, “You guys really made a pair—though it was quite challenging for me to execute such rare order.”

“You're lying. Angels _can't—shouldn't_ fall in love.” 

“But you're no angel. Not anymore.”

“Wha—”

“You've been staying on earth longer than necessary which means you're deceiving Heaven and its orders.”

“No! That's impossible! Heaven wouldn't do that, I'm a _warrior of heaven!"_

Cupid shook her head, before her wings came to view from her back. Her shining, white wings with a little mix of pink and red feathers unfurled proudly.

“It's up to you to assume anything, Castiel. But I give you one fair warning. If you don't give yourself to the temptation of love itself, you'll lose what you had. See you again, brother.”

With that she disappeared, leaving a faint smell of roses lingers behind.

* * *

Dean went radio silent.

It's been _months_ and he'd stopped feeding literally from anyone _—anything_ for that matter. The last time he had a meal was three weeks ago but he's never been hungry or to be honest; had none of his appetite ever since then.

That also included his urge to attract Castiel's attention.

He's been feeling...more or less _nothing._ These past few weeks he'd spent by lounging around some tall buildings, with a rooftop that he could stood on and just stared into the endless landscape of whatever it was that laid beneath him. His black eyes had long never showed up, now only his forest green eyes that had been his choice of sight for anyone to see.

His wings—tucked closely into his body, only to be unfurled and spreaded wide when he felt like flying again. Some days he just spent most of the time, by walking on feet and actually mingled with some humans. It actually shocked him at first—when a good–looking young man walked up towards him in a bar and asked for his number, said that he had been interested in knowing him. Dean smirked at first, totally had the sudden desire to just manipulate the man and then have his way with him; just like what he'd always done in the past. Then, he shocked himself for the first time when what he said out loud was a complete opposite of what he had in mind.

_“I'm sorry but I'm actually taken.”_

Just where the hell did that come from? Easy to say, seconds after—Dean scrambled his way out of the door and left in a hurry. He didn't even spared any glance back towards the man nor waiting for his reply. He never returned to that particular town after that.

He was a complete mess that day, the hole in his aching heart was getting deeper and even deeper each time he tried to pretend or ignore how it screams for one person. 

The angel.

And now, look where he is; on the wet ground, in some forest out of nowhere—bloodied and dirtied from the constant beatings he took from the group of demons that he actually had pissed off at some point the time he was in Hell.

He wanted to fight so badly but he couldn't find the need nor the urge to do it. So he just let them punched, kicked and perhaps someone already stabbed him on his stomach and his chest countlessly. But still, he couldn't care less.

“Why didn't he fight?”

“I don't know and I don't care.”

“Is he dead?”

“This is the fucking _Knight of Hell_ we're talking about, then why is he so fucking weak?”

Those pathetic low tier demons were arguing and bantering with each other as they took turns beating Dean on the ground. He didn't flinch nor grunt. He just laid there, curled up in a ball and let them do whatever they wanted to his body.

Blood now trickling down his forehead, lips sting with cuts and the rest of his body just oozed with dark blooming red of his own blood. They had actually stripped him off his suit, leaving him only in his dress pants and shoes—dark bruises and deep cuts decorating his fair skin.

It took the demons another few dozens of beatings until they were satisfied. Dean just laid still, his eyes opened just barely as he stared into the rows of trees. He could make out the blurry shaped of green bushes, some wild red flowers, few grasshoppers on the leaves then…a figure in black. 

A figure in _black_ stood firm on the wet ground of earth and for the first time in millinea, Dean thought he's going to die in the hands of his own kind.

Dean remained unmoving– _not that he could anyway,_ but shock to see the human shaped figure suddenly lunged forward towards the demons, then sounds of screaming echoed throughout the dark forest with blinding white lights surrounding them. When it finally stopped, Dean's body was rolled over by a pair of gentle but firm hands so he was lying on his back whilst the black figure crouched next to him.

Then Dean finally saw it. The wings. A beautiful pair of white prismatic wings slowly covering his beaten up body. He only knew a person with that magnificent pair of wings. 

_Cas._

Dean croaked out a small smile, hands wanted to reach out and ran his fingers onto each of the magnificent feathers but he found out he seriously couldn't actually moved _any_ of his limbs. He cursed out mentally, trying to blink away the fogginess around his eyes to take a better look at the angel but all he could do was laid motionless as a deep voice whispered something into his ears then all he could see was black. 

No wings. No figure in black. No angel.

Maybe it's better this way. He didn't deserve to be saved.

* * *

  
First thing he saw the moment he opened his eyes was the sky. Such clear blue sky with just a little bunch of fluffy white clouds hung upon it. Then he smelled it. The sweet peach scent that he remembered scenting it long ago—wait. 

Dean instantly sat up as he apparently laid on a vast green field. He looked down his body and found himself dressed in an oversized white dress shirt and an equally white slacks which thankfully in his right size. He's barefoot too but he couldn't care less about that for the time being.

He tried rolling his shoulders, checking for some damages and then he lifted up the shirt, expecting hideous dark bruises and scars but _nothing._ His body is fine; not battered as he expected and he felt—for the first time in eons—better than he ever did actually. 

He frowns.

“What the hell—”

“Finish marvelling over your body?”

 _That fucking voice._ The deep timbre of the voice he so long to hear caught him off guard and he turned his head towards the source.

There he was. Cas. 

The last time he remembered was, the light brown trench coat and dark suited angel, but this time he was apparently met with a different version of the angel. Dressed in a set of all black three–piece suit, the angel looked so _magnificent_ with those black tie and all; and Dean tried not to blush at how hot actually black looked on Castiel and he ignored how they seemed to be dressed up in opposite colors. It's ironic how he's the one who wears _white_ right now.

But everything fits Castiel's _body_ so perfect it actually brought shame on him who was wearing a fucking _oversized_ dress shirt that the collar slipped down his left shoulder, showing the fair unblemished skin beneath it, and Dean never felt so _vulnerable_ as he was right now, wearing these.

Who actually made him wear this stupid shirt anyway?

Taking in the surroundings again, Dean asked.

“Where the fuck am I?”

Cas smiled and that same intensity of blue eyes made Dean's heart leaped inside his chest. 

“Heaven.”

“What— _no fucking way.”_

 _“Just,_ heaven on _earth_ actually.” Cas shrugged, then he turned his head to stare at the greeneries laid upon them. Dean couldn't help but silently marvelled at the perfection of the angel's side profile complimented with a set of strong jaw. He suddenly imagined leaving trails of kisses on that skin but soon distracted from the reverie when Cas said,

“This is my favourite place.”

Neither of them said anything after that. It was a total silence, well, minus the nature sounds surrounding them and minutes later, Dean sighed loudly.

He needs to get out of _here._ Get out of these suffocating _feelings_ that blooming up inside his chest for a certain angel. 

Standing up, not caring that he's barefoot and all; he unfurled his dark wings from the hidden space and made a few experimental heavy flaps, liking the way his wings muscles and tendons moved so effortlessly. 

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

Cas stated nonchalantly, deep voice sounded so loud in Dean's ears as they stood in the heart of the field just few feet from each other. 

Dean rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck and exhaled. “What? Working out my wings? Pfft. I don't fucking care.”

“No.” Castiel said sternly, before he continued. “I know that you'd wanna leave sooner or later so, I marked my grace _in_ you.” 

Dean was silent and Castiel turned fully to stare at him directly on the eyes saying, “You can't leave nor be away from me. Not anymore.”

“Bullshit.” Dean spat out in burning rage. 

Castiel lifted one eyebrow at him but not saying anything in retaliation. It's as if he's daring Dean to do it. To leave.

Dean ignored the sudden heavy pull beneath his sternum and the next moment, he flew.

* * *

“Dean.”

Castiel stopped letting the bees swirled around his finger. He turned his head and looked at the former demon whom sitting on the grass beside him, pink lips pursed; pouting as he sulked.

“I am _Castiel_ not—”

“My _name,_ you idiot. My name's _Dean.”_

“Oh.” Castiel fought a smile that beginning to spread on his lips.

Never did he thought Dean would be this adorable when sulking.

Hours ago, after ignoring Castiel's warning, Dean flew back ungracefully towards the field as he failed to teleport himself, which resulting some broken bones of his wings.

He was mad at Castiel at first, still stubbornly wanted to leave even with the non functional wings and Castiel had to manhandle him onto his front and healed the wings. Then, Dean still didn't speak a single word to him, sulking at the very edge of the field, sitting on one of the huge branches of the enormous oak tree.

But when the invisible pull of Castiel's grace that ran inside Dean's body gradually began to strain almost painfully due to the huge distance between them; Dean finally took a seat with an annoyed huff next to Castiel.

“So, what's up with these grace thing of yours inside me?”

Dean asked after some moment of silence that stretched between them after he unceremoniously told his name to Castiel.

“You were dying.” He answered short.

Dean didn't push any other questions to him but instead, he asked, “So now, we're kind of connected?”

“Yes. If you wanted to put it that way.”

“Fuck. You're no fun.” Dean sighed, defeated.

Castiel had no response to that statement as he continued playing with some bees that buzzed and flew in between his fingers. They went silent again, and this time Dean laid down with his head pillowed by his arms, whilst eyes staring up at the evening sky.

Castiel liked it. How the silence was comfortable around them and with Dean's presence by his side, their thighs were so close they're touching; Castiel suddenly felt like he wanted more.

Since they now practically sharing his grace right now, he could sometimes felt the desire and _want_ from Dean that resonated just beneath his sternum. So when he felt like he couldn't take the silence anymore, Castiel snapped the bees away, and laid down next to Dean, propping up his elbow and rested his head on his palm, eyes staring down at the dots of freckles across Dean's nose and cheeks.

They were so close now, but Dean's apparently had his eyes shut; his face was so peaceful and just so _beautiful_ that Castiel had to touch it. 

So he lifted his hand and traced his knuckles down Dean's soft cheeks gently. Dean's breath became slightly hitched, then eyes slowly fluttered open, showing those forest green that Castiel came to love so much he could get lost in it. 

Like right now at this very moment.

Castiel continued to trace his thumb across Dean's bottom lip, their eyes never waver from each other.

Dean smiled, green eyes twinkling in playfulness.

“Wanna kiss me, _Castiel?”_

Castiel was no heaven's angel no more but he'll be Dean's angel. Always and forever.

So he sealed the promise with a kiss.

* * *

They made love underneath the gleam of scattered stars upon the black sky, Dean was writhing with pleasure beneath his angel as Cas was thrusting gently inside him, the tip of his deliciously hard cock brushed over Dean's prostate ever so often. He was floating in the cloud of euphoric pleasure that was all _Cas_ as he laid naked underneath the angel's strong body.

He wrapped his hands tightly around his lover's broad shoulders, and in that very moment, Dean never did want anything else. 

He just needs the _angel_ for his demon. 

—the end.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :)


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